Ricochet
by alexandriaZ
Summary: "Your job is done, 007. Mission completed." Her formally bright complexion had turned to wax and her lips trembled with cold, "It's over, James." An alternate ending to Sky-fall.


"You're carrying a corpse, Son." Kincaide's booming voice echoed through the tunnels.

"She's more alive than you are," James muttered as they raced through the tunnel. The shallow rise and fall of her chest served as proof.

"The cold air is the only reason she hasn't bled out."

"It's not as bad as it looks." James muttered. By the defiant set of his jaw, Kincaide knew that James would roll naked in broken glass if it would save her. The desolate cabin was barely visible through the shadows. James tightened his hold on M and ran.

James laid her gently on the sofa. They were safe for the time being and he would take advantage of it.

"W—What's happening?" M muttered. Her voice was little more than a wispy thread.

"Nothing you need to worry about. Just stay calm." James yanked open the closet and pulled out a bag. He had picked up a few things from MI6 about stock-piling a safe house. With determined hands he ripped the fabric of her blouse revealing the wound above her hip. "I've got to stop the bleeding," his voice was muffled by the package of gauze clenched in his teeth.

M groaned and her face contorted as he pressed against the wound. Sending white-hot streaks of pain through her body.

"Pain means you're still alive, M. Now keep still." Within minutes, the white gauze was stained scarlet. While chills crawled up her body. James caught sight of Kincaide knelt by the fireplace with a box of matches.

"Your job is done, 007. Mission completed. Her formally bright complexion had turned to wax and her lips trembled with cold, "It's over, James."

He fought back the quiver in his voice and pressed harder.

There were so many things he needed to say. "Silva won't get away with this. We won't give him that satisfaction."

"It's done, James... You ended him," M's eyes began to drift closed.

"Wake up, M!" James shouted his voice tore from his throat in a panic. "Wake up! Bitch me out!" He anchored himself to the sofa and for the first time since Vesper's betrayal, James Bond a one man machine with a license to kill. Cried.

Kincaide's firm hand caught his shoulder and pulled him away. "For God's sake, James. Get a hold of yourself and let her rest!"

James blinked in confusion, "Rest?" He repeated looking around the room. The floor by the ratty sofa was littered with medical supplies and a clean white bandage covered M's hip. Disoriented he went over to the bar and with a shaking hand, he poured himself a drink. Wincing as it coursed down his throat. The cheap vodka was a far cry from the smokey aged bourbon he was accustomed to.

"Christ. You should rest, too." Kincaide said.

With his legs back under him, James said,"That's one step above rubbing alcohol," he inclined his head towards the bottle and poured another measure. "But barely. I'll sleep when I'm dead. Someone has to keep an eye on M."

He walked down the hall and into the bedroom. Transparent threads of spider webs long forgotten draped the ceiling, the only sign of life in the darkened room. He pulled the plastic cover off the bed and tossed it on the floor. Dust clogged the frigid air his coughs sent smoky puffs into the air and he blinked to get his vision back. Through the window, he watched the smoke fill the night sky. It was all that remained of his childhood home. But it was worth it. He reminded himself, they were alive. "Good riddance." He muttered as he took another sip.

With one last look he ripped the blanket off the bed and went back to the living room.

"Who were those men?" Kincaide asked when James reappeared.

He dropped his shoulders in a half-shrug and covered M. with the blanket."I can't say."

"You burned down my home!" Kincaide boomed in despair. "We were nearly killed tonight the least you can do is tell me _why_!"

"In case you're forgetting, Sky-fall was _my_ home and you sold it and kept the profits for yourself," James spat drawing himself to his full height, "I told you to stay out of it."

"Then who is she?" Kincaide nodded towards M. "Her name is not Emma, is it? It took her a full minute to realize I was talking to her. A beautiful woman walks through the front door and you let me make a fool of myself by calling her the wrong name. What the bloody hell is wrong with you, James?"

"Her name is, M. The letter, her real name is very long and damn near impossible to pronounce. Satisfied?" James walked over and threw a log on the fire with his shoulders ramrod straight he stared into the flames. "There's an ax on the wall by the front door, use it. Go get some firewood."

"Those men, they were aiming to kill her?"

"Yes."

"And I don't suppose you can tell me why."

"That's right, I can't."

"You're not even going to apologize?"

James shook his head, "No." He swallowed hard, "Regret is unprofessional."

A gust of wind blew through the house as the front door slammed.

_Author's note: This is my first attempt at James Bond. I owe a huge thank you to Leila Grant and Liz1967 for allowing me to badger them with ideas!_


End file.
